


Whatever Else Comes

by Rehearsal_Dweller



Series: Whatever Else Comes AU [1]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Parent Donald Duck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 00:11:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21436984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller
Summary: Donald was sure that the kids would be happier not knowing about what happened to Della.He never counted on Della coming home.
Relationships: Della Duck & Donald Duck, Dewey Duck & Donald Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck
Series: Whatever Else Comes AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547776
Comments: 32
Kudos: 337





	Whatever Else Comes

**Author's Note:**

> This is the "Donald Is Dad" AU, where he's adopted the triplets and they don't know Della's their biological mom. I also took this as an opportunity for a "Donald doesn't isolate himself and has a support system of friends" AU because Donald needs that.
> 
> I have a vague idea to make a series of this if people like it, so if that's of interest let me know! If you think that's a Terrible Idea let me know!

“What are you going to tell them?”

Donald looked up at Daisy, the fear and grief in his eyes threatening to take over his whole expression. He looked and sounded on the verge of tears, shaking slightly. He hugged the three eggs closer, the eggs Della had left behind – her sons, now _his_ sons, because Della was –

“The truth,” Donald answered. “But not all of it.”

\--

“Dad?” Dewey said, trying to climb up Donald’s leg. “Dad, is Daisy our mom?”

“No, Dew-boo,” replied Donald. He scooped Dewey up and rested him on his hip. “You don’t have a mom. Just a me.”

“But like, we’ve _got_ to have a mom,” said Dewey, throwing his head back for emphasis. Donald, who was by now an absolute professional at handling four year olds who had suddenly decided to go boneless, was unfazed by this. He just shifted his arm up Dewey’s back a little, supporting him in an upright position.

“Says who?” said Donald. “You’ve got the best dad ever!”

Dewey laughed. “Uh-huh! But all the other kids have ‘em.”

“Well you, Dew, are not all the other kids,” Donald said. He kissed Dewey’s forehead. “Plus that’s not even true, one of the kids in your pre-k class has two dads.”

“I gueeeeeess,” said Dewey.

“And Dais might not be your mom, but she does love you boys an awful lot,” Donald continued. “And so do Minnie, and Mickey, and Goofy, and José, and Panchito. Not to mention Cousin Gladstone and Cousin Fethry. You don’t have a mom, but you’ve got so much other family who all love you so so much.”

Dewey smiled at that. “But Daisy’s not our mom.”

Donald laughed. “No, she isn’t!”

He set Dewey down and let him scurry back off to his brothers, who were clearly waiting in the next room for Donald’s answer. Sure enough, moments later he heard two slightly dissonant disappointed groans.

“Now we’ve gotta start our guessing all over!” Huey whined.

“Maybe he’s lying,” said Louie.

Donald laughed at that, but stopped cold when Dewey said, “Psssh. Dad doesn’t lie.”

Donald sighed, glancing out the window at the cloudless sky. If only.

—

“Hey, Lou-Lou, how was school?” Goofy greeted as Louie and Donald walked into the kitchen. Dewey and Huey both had after school activities today, but Louie’s was cancelled, so he was stuck tagging along to see Donald’s dad friends.

“Ugh, c’mon, I’m eight!” Louie complained. “You don’t have to use that dumb baby nickname anymore. Dad, I thought you were gonna tell people to stop calling me that!”

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” Donald replied, though he had a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“_Ugh_,” repeated Louie.

“Maxie’s upstairs,” Goofy told him, “why don’t you run up and play?”

Louie had never really been a runner, not like his brothers, but he worked his way upstairs at his own pace.

It took every ounce of self control that Donald had amassed in his thirty-three years of life not to laugh at Louie’s distant “_NOT YOU TOO!” _to Max’s excited, “_Hey! Lou-Lou! I didn’t think you were coming!”_

Once the moment passed, though, Donald’s expression darkened. “He reminds me so much of Dell sometimes, Goof. They all do.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Goofy said. He put a hand on Donald’s shoulder. “Kinda like a little piece of her is still alive.”

“Yeah,” Donald replied, miles away. “As long as it’s not the piece that goes tearing off into space at the first opportunity.”

“Sounds an awful lot more like it’s the piece that refused to answer to Delly-Belly after the first grade,” said Goofy. He smiled, squeezing Donald’s arm gently. “You won’t lose them, Donnie.”

Donald sighed, smiling weakly. “Thanks, Goof. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Goofy replied, shaking his head. He glanced up toward Max’s room. “We all deal in our own ways. Now c’mon. If we don’t get the cookies started before Mick gets here he’ll eat all the dough.”

“Right,” said Donald, and that was that.

\--

Donald’s birthday was always a bit rough. The boys had learned young to give him a little bit of space, that they’d celebrate another day. Usually, the weekend after was it, and all of Donald’s friends would come in and they’d throw a huge party in the park.

This year, Minnie had come to watch the boys on the evening of Donald’s actual birthday. Donald went out with his cousins to stargaze.

“Aunt Min?” Huey asked, watching Donald, Gladstone, and Fethry drive away. “You knew our Aunt Della, right?”

“Of course,” Minnie said. For a brief moment, she looked really deeply sad, but it cleared almost as quickly as it had come. “As long as I’ve known your Dad.”

“Dad doesn’t like to talk about her much,” said Huey. He shifted back into a sitting position on the couch. “His stories are mostly about when they were kids, but she died as an adult, right? Like right before we hatched.”

“Huey, I don’t know if I – yes,” Minnie said. “Yes, she was an adult.”

“Were they just not as close when they were older?” Huey pressed. “I’m so – I’m so afraid Dewey and Louie and I won’t be as close when we’re older.”

“Oh, _Huey_,” said Minnie. She sat down next to him, pulling him into a hug. “That’s not going to happen. Your dad and Dell didn’t fall out, he’s just – there’s a lot at the end that hurts to talk about for him. He tried really hard to push it all away, to cut himself off and forget about it.” She smiled sadly. “We wouldn’t let him, though. Let me tell you, kiddo, your Uncle Mickey was pretty steamed when your Dad wouldn’t answer his calls. Grabbed Uncle Goof and Auntie Dais and me and stormed right in here. Wouldn’t even take no for an answer, just picked Dewey up and started helping take care of him.”

“Oh.”

“Your Dad just wants to protect you from the worst of it,” Minnie continued, squeezing Huey again. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his sister or want you to know about her.”

“Can you tell me a story about Aunt Dell?” Huey asked quietly.

His brothers, who had drifted closer at the first mention of their seldom-discussed aunt, crawled onto the couch on either side of Huey and Minnie.

“Sure,” said Minnie. She shifted to put one arm around Louie, while leaving the other around Huey. Dewey leaned against Huey, looking up across him at Minnie. “When we were in high school, Della managed to get herself banned from the chem lab halfway through freshman year…”

They stayed there all night, listening to Minnie talk about Della and Donald and all their other friends. The boys drifted off one by one, so when Donald and his cousins got home he found Minnie at the center of a pile of sleeping ten year olds with a sad look in her eye.

Donald lifted Dewey off the couch, nodding as Gladstone reached for Louie and Fethry scooped up Huey. Once they were all settled in their beds and the cousins had departed, Donald fell onto the couch next to Minnie.

“Thanks for watchin’ em, Min,” he said. “It means a lot.”

“You should tell them,” she replied quietly, watching the boys’ bedroom door. “What really happened to her.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head. “Not yet. Let me just protect them a little longer.”

Minnie kissed Donald on the cheek. “Okay, love.”

—

Just a little longer only ended up being a few months. By the end of October, just after the boys turned ten, Donald found himself living once again in the house where he grew up. Or rather in his houseboat on the swimming pool at the house where he grew up.

Scrooge had enough care left for Donald that he didn’t spill the Della beans with the boys right off the bat, but he made his opinion known to Donald privately, away from prying ears.

“It’s an insult to her memory!” he snapped, smacking his hand onto the desk. “Pretending she doesn’t exist! That she’s not their mother!”

“I have never,” Donald said in a low, dangerous voice, “pretended that Della didn’t exist.”

“What do you call this then?” asked Scrooge.

“They know plenty about her, Scrooge,” said Donald. “And not just from me. Glad and Feth stop by every time they’re in town, and you try telling them to shut up about her. Not to mention all my old friends, you remember Mick and them?” At Scrooge’s nod, he continued, “They _adored_ her. And Daisy dated both of us back in the day, she’s got stories out the wazoo.”

“Then why, Donald?” Scrooge said. “Why lie?”

Donald took a few halting steps toward Scrooge’s desk. “Della abandoned them.”

“She didn’t –“

“She _did_, Scrooge,” said Donald. “She did. But I never wanted the boys to feel unwanted.”

“Still,” said Scrooge, “still, you can’t just claim to be their father. I didn’t have you and Della start calling me dad when I took you in.”

“You didn’t adopt me and Della,” Donald said, shaking his head. “You were our guardian, but never our parent. I’m not pretendin’ anything; I really am their dad. S’not like Della’s fella ever wanted the job.”

Scrooge sighed. “No, I can’t say he did.”

“Look, Scrooge,” said Donald, “I know – I know you and I still have a lot to sort through, but please don’t take this away from my kids. They’re happy like this, with me as their boring dumb dad and Dell as this slightly mythical aunt who can be gone without them feeling like she left them behind.”

He held Scrooge’s gaze for a long moment. Eventually, Scrooge sighed. “Alright, lad. But it can’t last forever. They’ll have to know someday.”

“Yeah,” said Donald, “someday.”

\--

Somehow, _somehow_ by the time the kids found out what really happened to Della, Donald had salvaged his relationship with Scrooge enough that he didn’t break the story.

Instead, he told them about how their Aunt Della was so determined to give them the stars that she couldn’t wait for _them_ to be there.

About how she was supposed to “help” raise them.

About how, broken hearted and angry, Donald took the eggs and ran.

So that somehow the kids all came out the other side still not knowing the full depth of the betrayal and lies and hurt that led them to grow up away from the mansion. Sure, they resented Scrooge for the parts they knew, but it was all Donald could do not to burst into tears from relief that it wasn’t directed at him too for the parts they didn’t.

Their world was pieced back together; life went on.

And then they sent Donald on the cruise, and it all fell apart.

\--

Scrooge recognized Della instantly, sweeping her up in a hug. But after a moment with him she was pulling away, diving back for the door.

“Della, there’s something you should know –“

“Where are my –“ she stopped dead when she caught sight of the kids. They’d backed away from the door somewhat, Huey, Dewey, and Louie half tucking themselves behind Webby. All four of them were watching Della warily. Della’s eyes started to well up and she fell to her knees.

“Is that –“ Huey said quietly, more to his siblings than for Della and Scrooge to hear.

“It _can’t_ be,” said Louie.

“I think – I think that’s _her. _Della,” Webby said at full voice.

“Some timing,” Dewey added in a lower voice even than his brothers had used.

Scrooge came in behind Della. “Huey, Dewey, Louie, meet Della Duck.”

Louie said, “Holy shit,” and Webby elbowed him hard in the chest. Dewey darted around his siblings and ran to Della, falling into her open arms.

“Wait a minute, _Huey, Dewey, and Louie_?” repeated Della, twisting back to look at Scrooge with one hand still on Dewey’s cheek. “They were supposed to be Jet, Turbo, and Rebel! I _told_ Donald, like a thousand times! I even wrote them down in case nobody could understand him!”

Dewey pulled away from Della a little. “Why would _you_ have named us?”

“Why –“

Scrooge put his hand on Della’s shoulder, cutting her off. “Dewey, Huey, Louie, Webby, go upstairs. To your room.”

“But we want to –“ Huey started.

“_Now_.”

“Uncle Scrooge, I want to talk to them,” said Della.

“Go,” repeated Scrooge to the kids. He squeezed Della’s shoulder. “I need to talk to Della alone. I’ll send Duckworth or Beakley for you when we’re ready.”

He waited until all four kids were all the way up the stairs before leading Della into the sitting room.

“What was that all about?” asked Della. “I want to get to know my kids!”

“There’s something you need to know,” said Scrooge. He wouldn’t look her in the eye.

“What?”

“The boys – they don’t know,” Scrooge said, “that you’re their mother.”

“What.”

“You have to understand, Della, that you were dead.”

“I most certainly was not!” Della snapped.

“We couldn’t have known that,” said Scrooge. He sighed, looking so deeply sad and tired that Della couldn’t quite bring herself to be really mad. “And believe me when I say that I wasn’t happy when I found out, but I think now that Donald made the right choice for the kids.”

“Oh did he now?” The hurt was still simmering just under the surface, threatening to overwhelm her. “By making it so my own sons don’t know who I am?”

“They know who you are,” said Scrooge. “You’re their hero! But Donald adopted the boys; they’ve always known you as their aunt.”

“Their aunt,” repeated Della. She fell back onto a chair. “I survived all this time to get back and be their mom, and now you’re telling me I’m just their aunt. Because Donald is their dad.”

“Della -“

“Where is that child stealing son of a bitch anyway?” She leaned forward, looking around as if she’d only just realized her brother wasn’t there.

“He’s on a cruise. A well deserved one, at that, and we will not be bothering him,” Scrooge said. “Della, love, he was just trying to save them the depth of our pain from losing you. We never imagined you’d find your way home after all this time.”

“Well, I have.” Della crossed her arms. “And some things are going to have to change.”

—

“Hey, Aunt Della, you must’ve known our mom,” Huey said over lunch one day. Scrooge froze. Della gripped her spoon so tightly the design was digging into her palm. Beakley, in the next room, fell still as well.

“You could say that, kiddo,” Della replied, her voice tight. “What’s your dad told you about her?”

Huey shrugged. “Not much. Just that she wasn’t ready to be a mom, so Dad raised us on his own.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Dewey agreed, “and the last time I asked who she was, Dad just looked at me, completely deadpan, and said ‘you caught me, I had an affair with Minnie Mouse and you’re hers, it’s a miracle you look so much like normal ducks’ so now I don’t ask.”

This caught Della so much by surprise that she choked on her sandwich for a moment. “He _said_ that?”

“Yeah,” said Dewey. “That’s kinda just how he is. We’ve asked his friends about her, but Aunt Dais just goes all misty over it and the others usually just say we’ve never met her.”

“Dais? You mean Daisy Duck?” Della asked, jumping on the distraction to keep herself from saying _well you have now._

Huey nodded. “She always has the best stories about _you_, you know.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Della. “We dated.”

“That’s why she’s got the best stories about Dad, too,” said Dewey, rolling his eyes. “Gross.”

Della laughed. “It’s not like she dated us at the same time.”

“No, just Dad dating. Gross.”

“Okay, okay,” said Della, still laughing a little. “So you don’t know much about your mom at all then, do you?”

“We don’t really need to,” Louie said in a low voice. “We ask kind of as a hobby I guess, but we’ve got Dad.”

“Yeah, Dad’s really all we need.”

“He’s the best.”

“Sounds like he’s a really good parent,” said Della, and she almost didn’t sound bitter about it.

\--

The thing was, Della went with it. She wasn’t sure exactly how to approach the subject with Huey, Dewey, and Louie, and wasn’t sure she wanted to without Donald around to pick up the pieces. Or take the heat, as the case may be.

And anyway, before they knew it the world was ending, or at least damn well trying to, and Della took the kids and ran. And ran.

And ran.

Until there wasn’t anywhere else to run, and the Cloudslayer had plowed into the sand of a deserted beach, and _Donald was there_.

All four of the kids ran to him, and somehow he caught them all at once in a huge hug. He didn’t look like he should be able to carry four eleven-year-olds at once, but he didn’t even seem to break a sweat. After a moment he set them down and turned to his sister.

“Della?” Donald said, his voice scratchy. Scratchier than usual. “Dell, is that really you?”

“Donald,” said Della.

And then she tackled him.

“You _ASSHOLE_!” Even as she started to yell at him, she could feel the fight draining out of her, replaced with empty sadness. “How _could_ you?”

“How could I what, Dell_?”_ Donald pushed her off of him, sitting up and scrambling back. “How could I pick up the pieces and find a life again after you ran off? How could I take in three eggs I was _not_ prepared to parent at the drop of a hat? How could I protect them from knowing they’d been _abandoned_ by my stupid, self-absorbed sister because she knew she wasn’t ready? God, how _dare_ I tell my own god damned kids that I’m their dad.”

“Yeah, Donald, how _fucking_ dare you,” said Della.

“You were dead!”

“I was on the moon!” She waved frantically at the sky. She was still mostly laying on the sand, where Donald had shoved her. “On the _moon_. Alone. For ten years. And I come home, _finally_, just so excited to get to meet my kids and be their mom, and Scrooge tells me that I’m _not_ their mom. I’m their Aunt. Because you stole my kids.”

“I adopted your kids.” Donald glanced over to where the boys and Webby stood, all frozen in place and staring at them. “Which makes them _my_ kids. Because they deserve at least one parent who wants them.”

“I wanted them,” said Della in a tiny, broken voice.

“Did you?” Donald’s tone was cold. He’d been holding the hurt and heartbreak back for ten years; sometimes it spilled over onto Scrooge, but deep down he’d always known it wasn’t only Scrooge at fault.

“Of course I did.” Della looked at the kids, too. “Of course I did.” She pushed up into a seated position, facing Donald. “You had to go on that stupid cruise, didn’t you? I’ve been going along with _your lie_ for weeks.”

“You think I’ve been on the cruise?” said Donald, a hysterical laugh threatening to overtake the words. “Look at me, Dell-bell, you think I’ve been on a _cruise_?”

“Dad,” said Louie, falling to his knees next to Donald, barely even noticing the sharp intake of breath the word pulled from Della, “where _have_ you been?”

Donald pulled Louie into another hug, his eyes on his sister. “The moon.”

\--

“Hey, Dad?” Dewey was leaning on the doorframe of Donald’s childhood bedroom.

“What’s up, Dew-boo?” Donald asked.

“Oh, god, don’t call me that,” said Dewey, “I’m begging you. You know we’re eleven now, right, not two?”

Donald laughed. “I’m your dad, I can call you whatever dumb nickname I want. Now what’s going on?”

“Everything’s going to change, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Dewey.” Donald waved Dewey over, letting him crawl onto the bed with him. He raised his voice a little. “Hue, Lou, you might as well come in too.”

Sure enough, Huey and Louie poked their heads around the doorframe at his words. He gestured for them to join him and Dewey on the bed. “Is Webs out there, too?”

“Nah,” said Louie, “she’s at the Sabrewings’ house. Dealing through sleepovers or something.”

“I’ll talk to her later, then,” Donald said decisively. He looked at his sons, one after the other. “Everything’s already changed, hasn’t it? That’s what you were really asking.”

“I guess,” said Dewey. He pulled his legs up to his chest, leaning heavily on Donald.

“Do we have to call her mom?” Huey asked, ever practical.

“Not if you don’t want to.” Donald put an arm around Huey’s shoulders. “I can understand if it feels weird for you.”

“She’s not going to replace you, is she?” said Louie. His voice was shaky and quiet, and he’d crawled around behind Donald to put his head over Donald’s shoulder on Dewey’s side. The way they always used to sit to read bedtime stories when the boys were a lot smaller and their life was a lot more straightforward.

“No, Lou-Lou, never,” Donald replied. He tipped his head to the side to let it touch Louie’s, and it was a sign of how worried he’d been that Louie didn’t fuss over the nickname. “Our family’s just a little bit bigger now, okay? But I will always be your dad, and I will always love you. Whatever else comes.”


End file.
